“Yes?” I say, my face so hot it feels like it’s about to catch fire.
“No hard feelings, okay?” A dimple pops in his cheek. “I like do-gooders.”
Sure, you do, I think. That’s why he’s looking at me like a cute little kid, instead of a girl he wants to keep making out with. He might like do-gooders, but they don’t make his blood rush, don’t make him want to kiss like it’s the end of the world and there are only a few minutes left before the asteroid hits.
I’ve never kissed anyone the way I just kissed Nick. I honestly hadn’t thought I would want to.
Sweet, loving, romantic kisses have been my thing for as long as I’ve been kissing.
But now…
That’s what really scares me. Not that I was acting out of character, but the fact that I liked it so much.
So. Very. Much.
Chapter Twenty-One
Aria
Two days later…
I should have known the bomb was going to drop at some point.
The past nine days with Nash have been heaven. It almost makes sense that I find myself in hell Sunday evening.
After all, there is no light without darkness, no rose without thorns, and apparently, no marriage without an in-law determined to make their son or daughter’s new spouse suffer.
From the moment Nash and I step into the elder Gearys’ home Sunday afternoon, Joy Geary makes her disapproval of this match abundantly clear. To me, at least. Nash seems determined to ignore his mother’s cool reception. When I pull him aside to voice my fears that his mom hates me like ass rabies, he laughs me off, saying his mom’s been sick and is probably still under the weather and making a joke about not knowing you could get rabies only in the ass.
“Besides, she wouldn’t hate you like any kind of rabies,” he adds, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Mom doesn’t have strong feelings about rabies one way or another.”
“Everyone hates rabies,” I insist.
“But everyone in my family is going to love you.”
“If you say so,” I mumble, moving into Nash’s arms and resting my cheek on his chest. But not even a full-strength Nash hug—which is quickly becoming one of my favorite things in the world—can banish my anxiety.
All through dinner, I swear I catch Joy glaring at me out of the corners of my eyes, only to turn my head and find her watery green gaze fixed politely on Nash or his sisters.
After dinner, I excuse myself and head out to the backyard with the other moms to watch the kids play. Felicity is younger than the Geary grandchildren and the two kids still living at home, but I’m sure she’ll find someone to play with. If not, I’ll crawl around in the grass with her myself. Anything to escape the tension in the house.
“Has the tribe driven you crazy yet?” Raleigh stands beside me on the grass, watching as her two sons run toward the trampoline at the rear of the large yard.
I smile. “Nope. I love the tribe.”
And I do. Nash’s brothers and sisters and their broods all seem to be sweet, fun-loving people. Even Nash’s little brother, Nick, who—according to the gossip I heard from Natalie—had a bad attitude when he first showed up for work this past week, has gone out of his way to be welcoming tonight.
It’s only Joy who has me on pins and needles.
Joy. If Nash’s grandmother had known what a sour face her daughter would have as an older woman, she might have reconsidered her choice of baby names.
“Well, you don’t have to, you know,” Raleigh says, surprising me.
I look over to find her watching me with a shrewd, but kind, expression.
“It’s you and Nash that matter,” she continues. “I like you, and if you enjoy the craziness that comes along with a family the size of ours, then that’s awesome. But if you don’t…that’s fine, too.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” I say carefully, glancing back to check on Felicity, who is still crawling around by the swing set, pulling up handfuls of grass and throwing it into the air.
“I’ve never seen my brother this happy,” Raleigh says, sending a surge of warmth rushing through my chest. “You’re good for him, and he seems to be good for you, and that’s all that matters. You didn’t marry our family, you married him, you know?”
“Thanks. I appreciate that, but you guys are lovely.”
“Not always,” Raleigh grumbles.
Her tone sets off alarm bells, but before I can figure out a way to discreetly ask if there’s something I should be worried about, or at the very least prepared for, Raleigh’s youngest son falls off the trampoline, sending her running to kiss the bruises.
Afterwards, I can’t find an easy way back into that conversation, so I do my best to forget my misgivings and enjoy the evening.